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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27796375">What We Are</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/maraudernight/pseuds/maraudernight'>maraudernight</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hades (Video Game 2018)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst with a Happy Ending, Happy Ending, How Do I Tag, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 15:15:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,131</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27796375</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/maraudernight/pseuds/maraudernight</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>His lover was drunk in praise and attention.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Achilles/Patroclus (Hades Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>158</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>What We Are</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Do I think of them, day and night? Yes.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Achilles asked for their ashes to be entombed as one.</p><p>＊</p><p>The Shade sat by the Lethe, reflection almost touching the tip of his nose, the flow of this gentle river perpetually changing yet never altered by his emotions. He understands that pain comes from the remnants of instincts in life, yet the sharp, tearing pain in his chest still causes him to uselessly breathe like the way he had on the verge of death. He'd considered burying his face in the water and drink deeply until he forgot all reasons for him to feel pained, but how could he ever be able to do so?</p><p>How would he ever be willing to, after he had finally heard of the last days of Achilles without worrying it wasn't the truth.</p><p>Blood and darkness, Patroclus thought to himself, trembling. Blood and darkness, o Gods. What had his Achilles done?</p><p>Their bodies reduced to ashes, mixed and returned to earth, never separating from one another even as a worm opens its mouth—</p><p>Achilles, Achilles, Achilles.</p><p>He scooped up a puddle of water, watched his tired features become distorted in his yet-shivering palms.</p><p>Farewells in life, ever apart in death. They could never see each other again even as shades. It was too romantic to hurt for bodies to be as one. It was too romantic to hurt to die for one another.</p><p>He let the river trickle through his fingers and return, the way it always did when he played by the water in youth. They had never thought of leaving home at the time, both of them young and careless. When he could call out Achilles' name, and his golden-haired love could glance back at the voice, it was already enough.</p><p>It was a naive thought, so naive that Patroclus could almost not believe that it once belonged to himself, yet the memories that persist through desperate sips of the Lethe proved that this past was truly his.</p><p>The Shade remembers how he loved to comb his lover's surprisingly soft hair, carding strands when they were at home, when they joined the war, and when they were in bed the night before he had worn Achilles' armour. Honey-like rivers flowed across dark skin, Achilles always saying it tickled yet never stopping him from playing with the hair, blue eyes perpetually filled with laughter and love.</p><p>O, Gods, I would do anything for Achilles' eyes— He remembers himself constantly thinking.</p><p>God-like Achilles could easily tackle mortal men, but for him, there was only tenderness. He held on to a powerful thigh in the tent during nights, allowed a hand to tuck his hair behind his ears again and again between low and ragged breaths, heard a soft-spoken voice unknown to daylight. <em>Pat, Patroclus, philtatos, we shouldn't have joined the war together, you should have stayed safely home. </em></p><p>His Achilles was the hero of heroes, eventually believing that he had to be the hero of every man's life; Patroclus would never deny his lover's well-sung bravery, yet he would rather stand by the man's side than to be shielded, just as the way it was.</p><p>His lover was drunk in praise and attention.</p><p>He had curled up a stray, sweat-dampened string of hair, kissed lips that were pursed warm, thought that it didn't matter. If Achilles' fate was to be realized in this war, he would still be willing to follow. They were proud warriors and not weak boys, they were fearless by each other's side—</p><p>A butterfly swept by the Shade's eyelashes.</p><p>In the end, only their ashes were fearless.</p><p>Patroclus had his heart broken numerous times in life and in death: once when he learned he would grow old with his lover, once when he waited and waited yet never saw a familiar shade again, and once when he knew that his body had reunited with Achilles' before their souls did.</p><p>They shouldn't have joined the war together, they could have been safe and sound; two nameless old men, always together.</p><p>It was useless to think about this now. They took risks when it wasn't time to do so, yet stopped in fear when the time had finally come.</p><p>But, he thought, there was now another chance. <em>Risk it all</em>, he had asked the stranger to pass on, if he were to meet Achilles again, the hero had to risk it all. The Shade doesn't believe that he truly understood the man now, although he had trusted in him more than he trusted himself in life, yet there had to be hope.</p><p>Endless pining in the past made him sit by the Lether, forgetting time but never forgetting to love. In the worst outcomes, he would only stay the same like this, eternally guessing whether he would first forget himself or those ever treasured eyes.</p><p>He prepared himself for the worst, scraps of hope growing in his broken heart.</p><p>＊</p><p>Footsteps came from behind. It wasn't the spirited footfalls he learned from the Prince, but an echo from long before. Gods, he thought, if the Fates were to toy with him again, he believed he really would dive in the Lethe. </p><p>Despite everything, he still glanced back, a green livelier than grasslands entering his sight. </p><p>If shades still needed to breathe, Patroclus would have suffocated by now. </p><p>Achilles, <em>his Achilles</em>, stood safely in front of him, robes that complimented eyes and hair flowing down his body. The spear-wielding hand loosened and tightened again, Patroclus knowing its owner still hesitant from a mere glimpse, but it didn't matter— Pseudo sunlight from Elysium shone on the man, he could imagine that he was shimmering like the way he believed when they were boys on Mount Pelion. Achilles walked toward the Shade by the river, his handsome face, filled with confidence and pride from life, now sculpted into pure melancholy from uncountable time. </p><p>Patroclus himself was like that as well, a face that should be unaltered after death moulded by waiting and guessing, hoping and despairing. </p><p>"Pat, " The man's voice was still so soft that he could dismiss it with a small sweep. "Pat, I— "</p><p>All tattered regrets and yearnings were ceased by a finger on parted lips. He was shaking, they both were, a gesture in life mimicked by great waves of emotion. The Shade stood for the first time in eons, their faces almost touching. In a haze, he thought he could feel Achilles' lively warmth again, his palm caressing the face he always enjoyed holding. </p><p>He carefully pushed blonde hair behind his lover's broad shoulders. </p><p>"Achilles. " He said, speaking of the name like it was his breath. </p><p>Achilles let go of the weapon that seldom left his side, holding on to Patroclus' arm instead. </p><p>Their souls were finally in the same place, as one. </p>
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